So What If You Can See The Darkest Side of Me
by Nico Riddle
Summary: What if he didn't grow up as Harry Potter but Azrael Morten, Death's son?
1. Chapter 1

Three hooded figures crashed through the door of a fancy cottage in Godric's Hollow, not even bothering to look around. Two of them wore a blank white mask and black battle robes, one looking amused as a black, messy haired, middle aged man rushed forward from the next room, screaming his wife to run and save their only son, but the other white-masked looked clearly horrified.

The fourth figure was a handsome, wavy haired, crimson eyed man with an evil smirk on his face. He pulled out his wand and shouted "Avada Kedavra" and an emerald green light shot from his wand, rushing straight to the black haired man.

As it hit him, he fell onto the floor, never moving again. Two of the three figures laughed, but the third seemed even more terrified than before. They moved forward, walking up the stairs, entering a small but beautiful nursery where the burning red haired woman stood next to a crib with an infant within. She looked absolutely frightened though not for her own life but her child's.

"Stand away, woman!" said coolly the red-eyed man.

"NO! Kill me but please, I beg you to save Harry! " pleaded the redhead.

"Stupid girl! Stay away and I shall save your worthless mudblood life, but your spawn's fate is already sealed, he'll die today. " said the man on the right side of their leader.

"Kill me but not Harry! Save him! Please, he's only a child! Why?" asked the beauty, sobbing as rich streams of tears slowly rolling down on her face.

"I've been planning this for a long time, I'm not going to back up now, when I'm so close to win!" roared the middle one and rose his wand again, now pointing straightly to the crib. The familiar green light was shooting towards the baby when his mother suddenly stepped in the curse's way, which hit her and she fell on the floor, joining her husband in the World of Dead.

"Lily NO!" shouted the horrified man as he started to run toward his beloved, not wanting to believe that she is not going to wake up again, but a cold hand stopped him.

"I'm sorry Sev, I tried to save her, but you saw, she was not going to let mi kill that spawn. I've had to do this and you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, Tom, I know… But I love her so much and now…" he sobbed as he stared at the other in the eye, and the black haired pulled his friend into a comforting hug.

"I'm really sorry, Severus." said the other as he pulled his hood down, revealing his platinum blonde hair.

"It's okay, Luce, I'll get over it, but it will require some time." Severus Snape said.

"Let's get to work, I shall give you some time off to recover, will it be okay for you?" asked Tom aka Lord Voldemort.

"'Kay" replied the other two.

All three of the turned towards the little boy who was staring them with a bit of interest in his eyes as if he knew what was going on.

"Avada Kedavra" shouted the Dark Lord, but the curse instead of killing the little boy, shot back to them, knocking out all three. The infant screamed as his body was in full agony, and a lightning bolt scar begun to form on his forehead, curving itself deep into his skin.

When the screams stopped, a figure appeared from the shadows, walking slowly through the room, stopping next to the crib, while the infant was slowly falling into unconsciousness. The man who was wearing tight dragon hide pants with blood red button-up shirt picked the baby up and let him softly cuddle himself deep into the caring hug.

"Don't cry little one, I'm here to take care of you," the figure murmured into the sleeping baby's ears as he walked away through the shadows.

-X-

Albus Dumbledore was hardly just an old man. No, he was a true genius. When he heard the Prophecy from Trelawney, he instantly knew that something's wrong with it. Not just it prophesized his downfall, but also the rise of the Second and the Third Dark Lord. Or something like that.

Now he was sitting in his cosy fluffy chair in his office, thinking about the Prophecy Child. There are two of whom it fits, but both are unlikely. Or so he thought. He was drifting deep into his mind when suddenly the alarm he set on the Potter House went off.

He instantly knew what had happened and quickly ran to the Apparation point. When he arrived at Godric's Hallow, he went in and saw James' lifeless body on the floor. Fearing the worst, he ran straight to little Harry's room, but except Lily's body, there was no one inside.

He frowned as he searched for the magical signatures in the room other than Lily's and Voldemort's he found

nothing. But… that's not possible, was it? Tom wouldn't have taken the boy with him, would he? No, that's impossible!

He quickly went to the fireplace and flooed to Hogwarts, shouting to McGonagall to set up an order meeting instantly. When everyone arrived save the Potters, they went to the headmaster's office, and barely five minutes later had they begun the meeting.

"I am really sorry to say but it seems that Voldemort" he ignored the flinches "have found the location of the Potter family and killed Lily and James, while young Harry had disappeared, though I'm sure he isn't with Tom." he said and then looked at the crowd of fifty members that like one, went pale upon hearing the news he said the death of their friends. Sirius Black though looked as if he was ready to faint.

"That ratty bastard!" he shouted as he stood up.

"Black!" claimed several others, wands pointed at the animagus.

"Weren't you their Secret Keeper?" asked Amelia Bones.

Sirius shooked his head and he said, wand in his hand, "I, Sirius Orion Black, swear on my honor, my very magic, soul and life that I was not the Secret Keeper of Lily Potter nee Evans and James Potter, but it was Peter Pettigrew, so mote it be." A bright blue light surrounded him and then faded, and he looked grimmer than anyone had ever seen him before.

The wands were put back to the pockets of the now deathly white people.

"But… Peter? He was always so kind to everyone! I cannot believe! Why?" sobbed someone from the crowd.

"I am afraid that he had joined the ranks of You-Know-Who before even Harry was born. He started acting a bit weird a few months before," said Albus.

"Now we need to capture him, or I'll go after him personally, but then he will regret the fact that he bows down to that filthy bastard!"

"Siri," started Remus, the young werewolf, the life mate of the said animagus "We need to find Harry first, who knows what could happen to him while he is not with us."

"You're right, I guess."

-X-

The castle was made of pure black stone, it was massive with three towers and at least five floors. It was clear that its owner was really proud of it. A gentle breeze shot through the place, shaking the leaves of the huge yew tree which was the only living thing in the surroundings. Not even a spider or a mosquito dared to go there, its instincts screamed them to leave immediately when they reached the place within a mile. The owner though did not mind it. He liked the solitary, he was used to it in the past few billion years. You may ask that how was that possible to live that long. However, as you could have guessed, he was not an ordinary being. In fact, far from that. He was Death. Now, he was awaiting for something. For what, he did not know, but he was waiting for it. It was meant that something would happen that day. That day was his day. Samhain, or Halloween, as those filthy bastards called, dishonoring him. He really did not like them. Their souls weren't meant to be in his Plain of Death. They are disrespectful with those who would deserve be worshipped. One muggle – as his precious sorcerers called them – in the entire universe was worthy to his attention, a young woman, a seer. She lived approximately two thousand years from now, and she predicted that this day, something big would happen. She did not tell what, just that it would change the world for the better. So he waited.

It was late in the night when he felt it. The pull to the Land of Living, where one of his precious called him. It was a little boy. The son of two Rebels, who went against his order to kill those filthy muggles. But he could save the little boy, couldn't he? He Umbrened through the shadows, into a small nursery, with the dead woman, three of his sorcerers and his baby boy inside. One of the three figures cast the AK curse, but he arrived just in time to stop it so his baby don't get hurt.

It knocked the other three out, but Death flicked his wrist and all of them immediately got transported to Malfoy Manor. He picked the boy up and whispered a few comforting words in his ears, but he did not seem to hear, he was in deep sleep. Death Umbrened both of them back to Morten Castle, where he set up a crib in his room and put the small child inside. Though he did notice the strange scar, he immediately knew what was it – his Bellator Lord's soul – and that it won't do any harm to his child, so he left it there.

He went to the library and sat down near the fire, snapped his fingers and a bottle of firewhiskey appeared in his hand. He drank a gulp of it and enjoyed when the strong alcohol burned his throat. He thought about what he will name his child, how to raise him, and that he will gift him with all abilities he knew, just in case he needed it.

A few hours of silence broke when he heard his boy's cries of hunger, so he went to feed him.

"What should I name you," he wondered, when a name popped in his mind. "Azrael, my Angel of Death. Azrael Morten, that is your name from now," he whispered into the silence, and listened the Azrael's breathing as he too slowly drifted into sleep.

-X-

"Fuck you old coot!" yelled Sirius as he jumped up from his chair. "What do you mean that I cannot go to search for my godson?!"

The old man with long snow white beard smiled sadly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at the man in front of him. He knew that Black would be in his way so he thought of a way to get rid of him. Albus stood up and lifted his gaze up to the other man's eyes.

"I'm sorry Sirius, but I've tried everything and I could not locate young Harry. Every single time I cast the Locator Charm, it says that he is at an unplottable location near the Arctic Circle. I'm afraid we cannot do anything but wait."

He stood up and walked out of the room, ignoring the furious man behind. He though hadn't expected the blood boiling hex that hit him.

-X-

Five years later

"What do you get when you add Yew sap to Devil's Snare seeds and Willow Nectar?" asked a black haired man sitting in a fluffy armchair behind a beautiful, ornate mahagony desk.

His face wore no expressions but in his eyes, you could clearly see that he was pleased with his apprentice, his son. Though not originally by blood, and he was planning on telling this to him today, but he was nervous about it. He dearly loved the child thus blood adopted him a few months after his arrival.

The first thing he did after that was giving him all powers he knew about. First was Necromancy thus he could speak with the souls of the dead from the really beginning. If you get a gift in early age, the easier you can use it, so little Azrael spent most of his days chatting with Merlin, Morgana, Helga, Salazar, Rowena and Godric. They thought his little boy everything they knew and the rest was up to him. The next gift was the Elemental. Azrael by now could easily control Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Light, Shadow, Electricity, Gravity, Life and of course Death. Firstly he practiced on small animals until he could successfully manage it, than he used it on muggles whom Death brought him.

He also could read the thoughts of anyone he wanted and this was not legilimency, far from that actually. The only mystery about this was that he could not read anything from his Father. This was rather interesting, they both thought, but neither of them really cared. Than there was the act that he was a Mind Master, a bit similar to the Occlumency-Legilimency combination, but no Occlumency could stop his attack on the person's mind and no one could break his mind fortress.

Lastly, there was his animagus. It was special too. He did not have one animal. He did not have two. He could transform every and any animal he wanted to, but his personal favorite was the black panther.

"The Draught of Living Flame, which allows the drinker to control the flame like the Imperio does to people," the answer of his son snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, Azrael you've done well again. I am proud of you," started the Death, immediately catching the attention of the

young boy before him. "We need to talk, son."

He was nervous. He couldn't quite pretell the reaction of his son for the things he was about to tell him.

"What, Father? I didn't do anything wrong, I swear!" he squealed in panic. It took every bit of his willpower not to smile at that. The boy's name perfectly described him. He was a little Angel, but… the Angel of Death. His little angel.

"I know that as well, Azrael. We need to discuss your future. Do you know who I am?" he asked, knowing that the child would answer it perfectly.

"You're Father. Angeli Morten," stated a confused little boy. He was

rather intelligent, in fact, more intelligent than he should have been, but who could blame him when he grew up in the tender loving care of Death himself? He was clever, but he did not understand why his Father asked him these things.

"Yes. Tell me, what does Morten mean?" Of course he knew it! Uncle Sal taught him Latin.

"Death," he answered confidently.

"Yes son, I am Death," he said but he did not get the reaction that he was waiting for. He waited for the boy to scream and shout and call him evil, but Azrael didn't do that.

"I knew it!" shouted the little boy, startling his Dad. "When I was out last time, a snake told me not to come back here because this was Death's residence," he stated calmly. "And I suspected before, Father, you have that aura around you that I only feel when I use my Elemental Death ability."

Death was completely amazed. He would never have thought that his baby boy was that clever. And then it clicked.

"What do you mean, a snake told you?" he asked frowning. Parseltongue? He certainly didn't gifted his son with that. But… Is that possible? From the Horcrux? Yes, probably that's it. "Never mind, I understand. Azrael, I need to tell you a really important thing, and you will listen to me and no don interrupt. Do you understand?" At his son's nod, he started to explain. Starting with the girl who predicted that fateful Samhain night, through his parents' murder to the blood adoptation. Once he finished, he raised his gaze to his son who looked thoughtfully for a few minutes and then spoke.

"So, Father, my birth-parents were on the wrong side," nod "and this Voldemort guy is on ours?" Death nodded again, glad that his son understood the situation instantly.

"That's it. The old coot Dumbledork thought that he could dismiss the prophecy if he obliviated the seer who prophecised it, and replace it with another." He felt the anger growing inside him though he did not show it, he just wanted to take the senile fool's life away from him in a really painful death.

"Please Father, tell me the prophecy," pleaded the boy, and Death wanted to decline the request, but knew that Azrael had every right to know.

" Born as the seventh month dies, lives a life full of lies, with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, thought to be just a chess piece on the board. But instead he gets the Equal's Mark, and this is the clue of his turning to Dark, they shall conquer and rule, reform everything from school. After he discovers the Truth, he starts to live for his youth, and accepts his supposed nemesis' offer, he helps to bring down the Order. Be together forever and after, in a life full of joy and laughter, neither of them knows, but later the time shows, the gift that he inheritly holds, from the power of the bolts. But after a few years, they'll shed no tears, from two they'll be three, the third's life full of glee, and none of whom regrets, what the world gets."

He looked at his son and didn't see fear, but he hadn't expected it.

"Hmm… Born as the seventh month dies, as my birthday on July thirty-first, lives a life full of lies, that may mean the blood adaptation? Or something connected to that. The power may mean yourgifts, Father," he says, and his father could just nod, really pleased with his little boy.

"Yes, and the chess piece part may mean Dumbledork, and that he thought that you'll be his personal pawn. The Equal's Mark… For this, I need you to know something. Do you know what a Horcrux is?" he asked and his boy shook his head. "When you commit a murder, small shards of your soul rip themselves from the whole thing. It is possible to lock these shards into an object, gaining 'immortality'. As long as these shards are on the land of the living, the person who creates the Horcrux cannot die. That night on 31st October, Voldemort accidentally made one," he said as he pointed to the lightning bolt shaped scar. Azrael stared at him with impossibly wide green eyes, as he was processing what he had heard.

"I… am his Horcrux?!" he whispered.

"Yes, son. That was when he marked you as his equal. By trusting you to take care of it, he accepted you. Now back to the prophecy thingy, I believe that the next line of the clue, it is that you know about what I think of the supposed Light side, and now that you know the truth, you'll decide. I do not want to push you, sonny, it's entirely up to you," he looked at his son who just nodded and went back deep into his thoughts trying to figure out what the other lines of the poem-thingy meant. "The next two lines are quite obvious, I cannot even guess what does the ninth line means. Then the eleventh says that you'll join Voldie and his playmates. The next few are quite obvious though I have no idea about that little gift of yours." Death said with a frown and his son just nodded that he didn't know that either.

"Father… Can we please discuss the other parts tomorrow? It's rather late in the night and I'm really tired," pleaded the little boy with his famous puppy dog eyes which always softened his father's heart.

"Of course, son," he said and watched as the boy disappeared behind the door. "Azrael?" he called, and his boy's head reappeared at the doorframe.

"Yes, Father?" he asked curiously.

"I am really proud of the fact that I can call you my son," he said with a bright smile, which the child returned.

"Thank you so much for everything, Father, I am happy to be your son," he replied and left whit a huge grin on his face. Time to speak with dear Aunt Ro.

-X-

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Azrael, happy birthday to you,"sung Death with a bottle of butterbeer in his hands. For others, it would have been a bit scary scene, but for the six-year-old, it was absolutely usual. He was used to being near his Father so this was not a big deal for him.

Another year was gone and they thought back to the main events of the twelve months.

**Fleshback**

"Uncle Sal, please could you teach me Parselmagic?" asked Azrael with an excited glint in his eyes. He would love to learn a new type of magic even though he already knew a lot more than an avarage adult wizard.

"Of course, snakelet. When do you want to start?" he asked smiling down at the little boy from the inside of the runic circle. When the child started bouncing, he could not bite back a soft laugh that escaped between his lips.

"Now, now, now, now!" squealed Azrael. Oh god how excited he was!

"Okay, snakelet, calm down!" said the smiling mad and the child grew bright red in embarassment. "No need to feel embarassed, snakelet. In fact, you highly remind me of your Aunt Ro when she was with us in Hogwarts with us." he smiled. "Now please start meditating, sink deep into your magical core." He waited for a few minutes and when Azrael's breathing slowed down he continued. "Concentrate your magic and will, and try to cause a flesh of light in your hands and say a word in parsel that feels proper." After a half minute, he heard a soft hiss "Fény" and a bulb of bright light surrounded the body of his snakelet. "Well done, little one" Salazar smirked.

**Another flashback**

"Please please please pleeease!" Azrael whined to his father.

"I said no!" Death sighed tiredly. "We will not go to Diagon just for a new broom when you already can fly without it! That is the dumbest idea I've ever heard, Son."

Death inwardly shot a worried glance to his son. He didn't want him to be disposed while they're at the Alley. It was way too much risk for a simple outing.

"No, daddy. My dumbest idea was when I dyed your hair pink and your skin orange. It was funny though," he giggled, but then looked serious. "And that broom thing was just the cover," he sighed, and glared at his father who now looked curiously. "I need to get a goblin-made dagger to one of my rituals and I want to get my vault key, who knows what the old man would do with it. So pretty please, I really have to go!"

Death lifted his haze and looked straight into the watered, impossibly wide greea puppy dog eyes which was his son's trademark. That damned boy knew he couldn't resist it, but he also knew that he couldn't rely on just that so they built up a strong trust between them. Angeli knew that when his precious boy used that it must be something really important.

"Okay but I'll go with you. I do not want you to get into trouble with the goblins. They're harsh little creatures, you know…" he said and could barely grab his son when he threw himself into his arms. "Hey, young man, not too fast, I need a few things done before I can go. You know, being Death is worth everything as everything, it also has a few disadventages."

"'Kay, daddy!" Azrael sqealed and ran up to his room to get changed.

They Umbrened to Diagon half an hour later. The Alley was as crowded as always and they took their time window shopping as they walked towards Gringotts. When they entered the building Azrael immediately noted that Dumbledore was there. He stepped closer so that he could hear what did he want.

"I want to take money from this vault," he said, giving the key to the goblin in front of him.

"Sir, I am sorry but you cannot withdraw money from there as it's not yours and we do not have the Potters' written permission for it," smirked the creature showing its teeth.

"I am young Harry's magical guardian so I have every right to use his money," Dumbledore spat.

Azrael felt fis anger rise as he stepped to the counter. How dare he! Stealing money from him! The Heir of Death himself. He looked at his Father who nodded.

"Oh sir, I highly doubt that," he said icily with a blank face. Both the wizerd and the goblin looked at him annoyed.

"And who are you to say such things, boy?" Dumbledore said, his voice full of venom. The goblin just looked pensieve for a moment and then his eyes widened.

"Oh, Dumbledore, do you not recognise me?" Azrael smirked. "Father says that I am almost the carbon copy of my birth father, but with my mother's eyes. Rings something inside your dumb head?" he asked playfully and scrowled as his father gently hit him in the head.

Dumbledore in the other hand looked like a vampire had drained him from all of his blood. He was deathly pale, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"H… Ha-Harry? That's impossible!" he muttered.

"No, appearantly it is not," grinned Azrael cheekily. He sent a mental message to his father that he needed to get rid of the old goat soon. His daddy agreed. He turned to the goblin who was still watching them mouth hanging open. Azrael and Death both bowed their heads in respect which shocked the goblin.

"Hello, I am Hadrian Potter, but I go by Azrael Morten now and I want my keys away from the old coot and in the safety of my father's hands, please. I also would like to speak with one of the bank managers about something really important," he said in a respectful tone and the creature quickly hurried away to complete the young boy's request.

"Harry, my boy, where have you been?" he heard the grandfatherly tone asking. Oh so the old man believed him to be a stupid six-year-old whom he could buy with a few sweet words?! Oh this will bite him in the arse!

"I've been wirh my father, learning to control all of my gifts. It's quite fun, he thought me everything he knew," he smiled broadly, playing along with the old man. Good, I have him in my hands. Now all I need to do I sto get him go to his relatives and away from his 'father' or whatever he calls that man and I want to know what gifts did he talk about, he heard from the bearded sorcerer. He bit back a laugh. No way in hell he'll be away from his father.

"What gifts, my boy?" Dumblewhore finally asked. "You know, we were worried about you, dear. You were to live with your auntie, she is a really nice woman. Care to tell me who is your… father?" he wanted to know.

"I don't really care much about you, you know. You were the one who let my real parents die. If my aunt is a nice person, I am the weakest person in the world. That woman does not know what does the words 'love' and 'care' mean," he said and then saw the goblin reenter the room. He walked towards him with his father whom didn't say a word from the start, and when he reached the door, he looked back to the headmaster who stood there, looking completely lost in his thoughts. "By the way, headmaster…" he started and then a grin appeared on fis face. My ability is telephaty. No Occlumency shield can stop me. You're sooo dead! he sung in Dumblefuck's head. Then he walked out of the room, never looking back and not seeing the headmaster for the next five years.

Inside the room there was anoter goblin sitting behind a huge mahagony desk, looking through the drawers and seemed like he was searching for something.

"Ah, here it is. Good day, Misters, I am Griphook and I am the Potter bank manager," he said, flashing a toothy grin towards them.

"Hello, my name is Angeli Morten," Death said and watched amusedly as Griphook's face lost all it's colours.

"Ma… Master D-Death, it is an honour to meet you," he stuttered. "You too, Young Master," he said, turning to Azrael. "I assume that you're Azrael Morten from the legends, aren't you?"

Azrael looked up to his father who grinned sheepishly and instantly knew what happened.

"Father, for Merlin's balls, tell me that you didn't go back in time and told everyone that you had a son!" he shouted in fury, but the shining amusement in his eyes betrayed his fake angryness.

"Ummm… No, of course I didn't do such a thing, honey. Where did you even get the idea from?" said Death with his oh so innocent face that his son couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh by the way Griphook," he turned to the goblin who watched the whole scene shocked "I need you to do something with Dumblewhore-"

"Language, son," smacked his head his father, but he was smiling.

"Of course, Young Master, he was trying to steal from you so his accounts automatically froze and by the laws they're yours now," he said, or rather whispered.

"Oh, that's good to know. As for that, please I want to know hom much money and how many accounts I've actually got," he said and the goblin hurried away. He got back with a green parchment and a small silver knife whick he handed to Azrael.

"Please, Young Master, cut your palm and let seven drops of your blood fall onto the parchment. Then it'll show what you've got."

Azrael did so and slowly a fancy handwriting filled the whole page.

**B****irth name****:** Hadrian James Potter

**C****urrent nam****e:** Azrael Morten

**Birth:** 1980 July 31

**Birth parents:** _mother:_ Lily Evans Potter

_father:_ James Charlus Potter

**Blood adopted parents:** _father:_ Angeli Morten

**Lord/Heir of Houses:**

Potter _by birth_

Black _by law_

Peverell _by birth_

Dumbledore _by law_

**Finance:**

**Potter Family Vault** – 1,897,341 Galleon 478,142 Sickles 134,634 Knuts

**Harry Trust Vault **– 50,000 Galleons 50,000 Sickles 50,000 Knuts

**James' Personal Vault** – 4,664 Galleons 345,257 Sickles 145,753 Knuts

**Lily's Personal Vault** – 4,146 Galleons 363,456 Sickles 467,164 Knuts

**Black Family Vault** – 2,643,273 Galleons 284,679 Sickles 266,536 Knuts

**Regulus' Personal Vault** – 4,218 Galleons 173,098 Sickles 194,001 Knuts

**Sirius' Personal Vault** – 2,061 Galleons 523,723 Sickles 172,263 Knuts

**Peverell Family Vault** – 9,083,435 Galleons 143,124 Sickles 674,334 Knuts

**Dumbledore Family Vault** – 1,052,346 Galleons 324,677 Sickles 685,618 Knuts

**Albus' Personal Vault** – 1,254 Galleons 143,432 Sickles 752,352 Knuts

**Abeforth's Personal Vault** – 9,133 Galleons 635,154 Sickles 643,923 Knuts

**Order Fund** – 9,459,759 Galleons 2463 Sickles 374 Knuts

**_Overall:_** 24,209,630 Galleons 3,467,195 Sickles 4,186,952 Knuts

**Properties:**

Potter Manor

Godric's Hallow Cottage

Marauder Manor

Seashore Cottage

Black Manor

Grimmauls Place

Peverell Castle

Peverell Summer House

Dumbledore Family Home

"Ahh, That's nice," Azrael said, then hit his forhead "I'm an idiot!" He shouted. Ignoring a "Language" from his father, he stood in front of Griphook and said "Én Azrael Morten, Mardekár Malazár, Hollóláti Hedvig, Hugrabug Helga és Griffendél Godrik törvényes örököseként követelem a jogaim figyelembe vételét," he stated proudly. Griphook fainted. "Oops…" he shrugged and at his father's questioning look, he exlpained "Uncle Sal told me that I needed to say this in order to claim myself as their birth heir," he said rather carelessly.

Only a few minutes later did he notice that his father had been staring him open mouthed.

"What's the problem, Daddy?" he asked and blinked innocently.

"Young Master," started Griphook who had just woken up. "With all your bloodlines, you are far the richest person in Wizarding Britain, not to mention your seats in Wizengamot, but with the Founders' money and political power, you not only own the whole Hogwarts, but you have the seats of 36 in the Wizengamot wich is almost the half of it. You only need to persuade two more people to vote on your side and then you'ss win every one of your petitions without any doubt. As for your money, you must have above ten thousand million galleons, not counting the sickles and knuts. You, Young Master, are most certainly the richest person in the world," he stated excitedly and Azrael just stared blankly at him. Then shrugged, hiding his shock and asked the goblin if they could make him his dagger. "Well, as you said, it has to be pure black silver with shadow metal handle, then it'll be quite expensive, Young Master. About a thousand galleons, but I assume you have no problems with paying it." When he heard the faint "yes coming from the young boy, he hurried away and a few minutes later he got back with a bill and a black box.

"I need you to sign this, Young Master so we can get the mondey from your vault," Azrael quickly wrote his name and Griphook continued. He opened the box and pulled out eight rings. "These are your Heir rings. They'll change into the Lord rings on your eleventh birthday. Put on them, please. Each one has powerful protection magics on them and with all of them on, you'll most likely be immune to all spells except Avada Kedavra of course," he said and Azrael pulled out the first ring. It was a silver one with an S shaped snake on it. Slytherin. He put it on his left index finger. Then came a dark blue ring with a raven on, Ravenclaw, which he put on the left ring finger. The next was a red one with an obsidian P in it, the Potter going to the right index. The Black ring was a shiny opal and it was put on the right thumb. Hufflepuff was the next with its fancy H in the middle. He put it on the left middle finger. Gryffindor went to the left index. It was a gold one with a diamond G on it. The Peverell ring, which Azrael put on the right ring finger was decorated with the marks of his father's Hallows, the cloak, the stone and the wand. Lastly came the Dumbledore ring onto his right minnle finger. It was nothing but a plain fake silver ring.

Wile he was putting them on, he was feeling the families magic working on him, building an invisible wall around him by pure magic and supplied him with the feeling of warmth, safety and family.

He smiled at his father who grinned back, then turned to Griphook.

"Thank you for your assistance, Griphook, for this, I donate five thousand galleons to Gringotts, use well," he said then turned back, never seeing the goblin staring after him open mouthed, looking deathly pale.

He walked out from Gringotts where Dumbledore was still standing, he showed him all eight of his rings and laughed when the headmaster fainted.


	2. AN

Author's Note

Sorry guys, no update yet, but I felt I should clear some things, so those who want to read my story, please read this as well

First of all, I know I haven't posted the new chapter in a month, so now I'm reasoning this: I'll have a grand exam in Jan which will have a huge effect on my future, so now I study all times to prep for that shit. Then there's the fact that I'm not native English so I always triple-check everything I write to make as few mistakes as possible because I know how annoying they can be.

Next, the reviews.

I'd like to thank you all for taking time and writing your opinion even though some were a bit harsh.

**Mashkai30**, you were my first reviewer so it way a good blow to my already too large ego that you liked it. Thanks so much!

**GarionRiva**, I'm glad you liked it. Harry's 6 right now and I've had a good reason for Dumbledore to join our little group this soon. Thanks to you too

**Anaelyssa**, I know, but I completely adore these kind of stories and when I had the idea I wanted to hear someone' unbaised opinions about it so I uploaded. Thanks for the review

**dljxxx**, it's good to hear you think that. I'll update as soon as I can. Thank you

**Guest**

"_I literally rolled my eyes at "Dumblewhore." Could this be any more cliché and nonsensical? Not to mention the fact that you have, for all intents and purposes, swapped out Harry for a crappy, unoriginal OC"_

Ummm... could you please enlighten me, because I cannot remember reading any story where Death emraised/em Harry. Good God, man, this was only the first chapter, how can you tell from it that it'll be worse? Oh wait! I'M SOOO PROUD OF YOU! You could tell that a **six** year old kid doesn't have an exact personality. Do you know why? Because normal 6 year olds do not have their own personality. Only little bits of it. Believe me, I know. My little brother'll be six in November and even he doesn't have, he wants to be the exact replica of his brother. Almost all of the other brats that age are the same.

I would have been delighted with your review if you'd written it in a civilised language

**GLB**, thanks :D

**Anon**, reading your review makes me feel embarassed for you. Do you know why? Because you think I care. 

**MylaUchiha**, I'll update as soon as I can. Thankya.

Thank you all,

Love,

Nico


	3. Chapter 2

**Albus Dumbledore banned from Gringotts**

_by Rita Skeeter_

Dear Readers, recently this reporter has heard some exciting rumor. Is that true that the goblins had forbidden the Headmaster of Hogwarts to enter the bank ever again?

Well, it certainly does not seem to be some blatant lie. This reporter was curious and thought that the Wizarding World has every right to know why this disastrous occurence happened, so she visited the highly respected nation of goblins to ask a few questions.

Griphook, the bank manager was the one who kindly informed me of this mournful case. It turned out that Albus Dumbledore was trying to steal money from the former Lord Potter, taking advantage of the fact that young Harry is currently unable to take control of his accounts.

Why, dear readers, is the question. Everybody knows that the Dumbledore family was quite wealthy, so what was the reason for this? And yes, I said that the Dumbledores _were_ a rich family. By the laws of Gringotts, a person who steals or attempts to steal money from another, all of the family's vaults are to be transferred into the possesson of the person whom they stole or tried to steal from.

This journalist has tried to gain answers from the Chief Warlock but with no results.

Dumbledore was fuming. How dare that Skeeter bitch write that shit! Now he has to regain the trust of his minions. That woman is nothing but pain in the arse. Maybe… some kind of _accident_ could happen to her… or simply put her under the Imperio. Well, that would certainly be _so much_ fun! That's right.

Now the only thing he had to do was to persuade her to meet him and that wouldn't be so hard seeing that she would literally die for an interview with Albus.

-X-

The 'interview' went rather fine. The reporter bitch had been incapacitated and she won't be a bother anymore. He could explain his attempt to the Potter vault as he was paying the brat's caretakers to take him in as he had finally found him. The Wizarding World was treating him as a hero again and he had nothing against that. But he had to do something about the boy's ridiculous abilities.

He almost ran to the Hogwarts library trying to find some kind of ritual or spell that would block most of the boy's abilities permanently. Not enough to make him a squib but adaquate that he would do anything for him to get his powers back.

After a few months of fruitless research, he finally found the solution to his problem: a ritual which required the _Potestas Blocus_ potion, a pentagram with not so complicated runes on them, but he had to perform it on the full moon. It wouldn't be so hard, he had five years to prepare and he also had the world's best potions master in his hands.

**Five years later**

"Daddy, don't worry too much," said Azrael softly. It was finally his time to start Hogwarts, he was so excited that he was literally bouncing in anticipation. The last few years had been unexpectedly uneventful and he was bored out of his mind.

"You know I trust you, Az, but you must have guessed that I don't want you in the same castle with the old goat and I fear he might try to hurt you in some way," Death sighed and sat down on the loveseat in his son's room.

Azrael climbed into his lap and cuddled into his father's arms. He knew that very well but he wanted to finally meet some kids his age. He didn't like his isolation but he also knew that nobody can do anything against it and his father wanted what he thought was the best for him. He really didn't mind that.

"Daddy, will you let me if I promise to stay in Sal's rooms?" he asked with his huge, teary puppy dog eyes. Death knew he couldn't refuse his son's request, partly because he wanted to see his son with loyal friends and such but it was also hard to separate himself from the only being he loved.

"Okay, Az but I want you to promise that if anything happened, you _ must _ come home immediately, do I make myself clear?" he said seriously (no Sirius joke yet). His son nodded and stood up, starting to walk towards the fireplace. He followed and they stepped through to King's Cross, platform 9 ¾ .

Azrael climbed on the train after kissing his father on the cheeks one last time.

He was searching through the train for an empty compartment when someone bumped into him. He fell onto the floor gasping in pain as he fell on his left hand, dislocating it. He looked up and saw the other guy standing in front of him, watching him jaw-dropped. When he saw his quickly purpling wrists, he immediately snapped out of his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you hurt?" he said. Azrael shook his head trying to hide his left wrist. Unfortunately the boy had seen it and offered to heal it.

"By the way, I'm Marcus. What's your name?" he asked. "Would you like to come to my compartment? It would be nice getting to know you."

"I'm Azrael," he replied softly, "and I would like that."

Marcus nodded and led him to the very end of the train.

They sat down to the fluffy chairs and started talking.

"So Azrael, you're a firstie, right?" started Marcus the interrogation. At Azrael's nodd he continued, "What house would you like to be in?"

The raven younger hesitated a bit but eventually answered "I prefer Slytherin though I think I'd be happy in Ravenclaw too," he said quietly. He knew he wouldn't get into Gryffindor, he was brave but not brash and loud, Hufflepuff was out of order, he was _not_ sappy and was loyal only to family.

Marcus nodded and started to tell something about himself – he was a third year Slytherin (AN yeah, in canon he's older but I wanted him to stick around for a few years and with him being a sixth/seventh year, it wouldn't have been possible…) whith a slightly dark family. His father had been in Azkaban for eight years and he was living in the Flint Mansion with his mother.

They took immediate liking in each other as it turned out that they both lived Quidditch – Marcus was on the team as a seeker – and he offered to do some training together after they will have settled in at Hogwarts.

No one had disturbed their ride, not even the woman with the trolley. When the train arrived at Hogsmeade, Marcus ushered Azrael towards a giant man with a lantern. He led them to the lake shore. He was told to sit in a boat with maximum three other children. A tall blonde boy in expensive looking robes sat next to him, a loud redhead kid and a bushy haired girl in front of them. The blonde sneered at the two and turned to him, starting a conversation between them.

"My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he started. He didn't stretch his hand out for a shake as if Az were inferior to him. "And who might you be?" he asked harshly. 'Oh Merlin, please tell me you're not a muggle-lover! I already met too many of them this day… But… He doesn't really look like some low scum… In fact, he is rather handsome,' Azrael heard the blonde think. He smiled at him and introduced himself to Draco.

"Well Malfoy, it's rather nice to meet you," he started. 'Finally someone my age who isn't constantly ranting about how Hogwarts will be wonderful or how significant the muggle technology is…' "I am Azrael Morten."

-X-

The boat trip was rather short, but Azrael didn't even notice the time passing, he was utterly awer by the magnificent castle. They were led into a small chamber where they met Professor Minerva McGonagall, the deputy headmistress. She had ordered them to wait before she moved towards the huge double door, entering the Great Hall.

**AUTHORS NOTE**

Hey guys, I know it's short, but at least more than nothing. Now, I have no idea which ones of Azrael's powers would be blocked, but any suggestion is welcomed. (Dumbles will not be in the Great Hall during the sorting so Az cannot read his thoughts. The full moon is two days away. just to know.)

Also, as you've guessed, I wanted Harry to be in Slytherin, but if you suggest another and you have _good reasons_ for it then I might change my mind.

my reasons for the Snake Pit:

they stick together, like a big family. They're a good bunch of people just misunderstood.

Marcus will be Azrael's friend and that way they could spend much more time together.

I want Azrael to be Draco's roommate and that he could tell him the truth about his early childhood.

Because that way Snape would be more accepting towards him.

Because Slytherin is cool.

note: I **will not **put him in _Gryffindor._

_**I would also like to share somethig:**_

I have another story in mind but I want to finish this one so I won't write that, but my friend read it and said that if it was well-written by someone, it would certainly have a good potential. I decided to post a challenge-like thing: you can continue the story down _**in any way you want, the only prompt if that it has to be**_ slash _**and more than 10,000 words long.**_

so here is it:

Dear Dairy,

I tell you this right away. I don't write this to express my emotions and feelings. No, I'm wasting my time for this shit in order to record my way towards the greatness. Because I _will_ be great. That's my destiny and I will fight with tooth and nail to achive it.

Oh, where are my manners. I should be introducing myself, shouldn't I? Well, my name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am six years old, born on 31st December, 1921. So, as you should have known by now, today is 1927. To be more specific, 30th December 23:50 PM. Only ten minutes to my seventh birthday. Not that I'll get anything.

No one in the orphanage gets anything, especially me. They hate me for seemingly no reason, but oh how many reasons do they have! This is a long story, but why not write it down?

_The night of 31st December, 1921 was a severely cold evening. Mrs Cole, the matron of the orphanage sat besides the fireplace, drinking a glass of fine wine. Oh of course she knew she shouldn't spend the orphanage's donations for alcohol, but she didn't care. All she cared about was her perfect life, so she ignored the cries of hungry, thirsty and cold children so that she could drink her precious wine. _

_She took another sip when she heard a knock on the door. She stood up and walked to the hall and opened the hardwood door. There stood the ugliest woman she'd ever seen, dressed in a strange clothing, holding her swollen stomach. She looked directly into Mrs Cole's eyes and started pleading._

"_Please, madam, I need help," she begged. "My baby's coming and I don't think I'll survive it," she said, tears flowing down her face._

_Mrs Cole just nodded. One extra child, who cares? – she thought._

_She led the woman to the infirmary and laid her down to the closest bed. She wasn't a nurse but saw that there wasn't any time to call for one, so she needed to do this by herself. _

_The next few hours were long but the child was finally born. The ugly woman smiled at her little boy and said, "Your name is Tom, after your father, Marvolo, after my father, and the surname is Riddle," she said and turned to Mrs Cole. "Write into the birth certificate that his mother is Merope Gaunt," she said and closed her eyes, slowly drifting away to sleep, never waking again._

_Mrs Cole didn't care about that child either. She put him with one of the older girls in the orphanage to take care of him, but she also wasn't especially fond of little Tom. In the next three years everything went smooth, as smooth as it could have been at that place. _

_But then it started. First, when little Tom was playing in the sand with his only possession, a broken warrior-toy. There was a boy called Jimmie who wanted it so he decided that he'll take it from little Tom. When he got it, Tom felt the anger washing through his body, his blood pumping behing his ears, he felt power flowing through his entire body. He wanted Jimmie to be hurt as much as he had hurt him by taking his precious toy away. That was when Jimmie started screaming. The agonized sound of his shouts alerted the matron who immediately appeared and saw a sobbing Tom and a screaming Jimmie. She knew that the little freak had done something to Jimmie just couldn't figure out what._

So, let me know what you think, 'kay?

Love,

Nico


	4. Chapter 3

Azrael heard the muggleborn girl – what was his name, maybe Ginger or Granger or something like that… - chatting quite loudly about the enchanted ceiling of the magnificent room: at the moment it was adorned with the image of the dark bluish purple colour of the setting sun. They all stood in a line as Professor McGonagall started to call the kids to the front and Azrael had to shut the voices of their thoughts out of his head or else he'd vahe had a great headache by the end of the feast.

Before he had been called, Ravenclaw won Mandy Brocklehurst, Liliana Moon, Padma Patil and Sally-Anne Perks. Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchley went to Hufflepuff _(I know some of this is wrong but it is important that they're in these houses so don't flame me on thi, OK?)_ while Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Morag MacDougal and Draco Malfoy were sorted into Slytherin. There were only five new lions in the Den: Levander Brown, Seamus Finnigan, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Parvati.

He was shaking with anxiety; he didn't want to disappoint his new and only friend, Marcus. Then his name was called.

"Potter, Harry!" said McGonagall and after a moment of silence, the whispers sharted.

"You mean _the_ Harry Potter?"

"Do you see his scar?"

"The handsome kid with the cute black hair?"

When he finally started to walk towards the stool, he stopped before the Professor and said clearly, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Professor, please, I would like you to note that I have changed my name. I am Azrael Morten now, not Harry Potter and I do not wish to use it so please refrain from using it." With that he sat down and waited until the stunned teacher shook kerself out of her stupor and put the hat on his head. It had sunk onto his eyes before it made it's presence known inside his mind.

**Hey, little one**, it said.

"Hello, Mr. Hat," answered Azrael politely. The ancient artifact gave a bubbling giggle as it spoke again.

**There's no need for such formalities, my dear. But this is not the time for this. Though I'd appreciate if you visited me sometimes during the year, you're an interesting person and I'm lonely in the fool's office… Anyways, where should I put you?** it mused.

"Please, do not place me in Gryffindor, Marcus would hate me," he begged mentally.

**Oh you need not to worry, the Den is not the right place for you. Let's see what we've got here… You're highly intelligent with a hint of cunning, you'd do anything for your father and you aim to change the world for the better… I know you've hesitated between Ravenclaw and Slytherin but if you were a Raven, you would have to be more bookish. So I think the only one left is "SLYTHERIN"!**

He pulled the hat off of his head and shoved it into the hand of the mortified-looking deputy headmistress. The whole hall sat in complete silence until Marcus started cheering for him and slowly the whole house joined him. His back was turned towards the student body so he couldn't see tha faces of the two most important adults in his life: Quirell (Voldie-poo) and Snape.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher stared at him jaw-dropped, a shocked look in his ruby red eyes. The Potions Master sat with furrowed eyebrows as his head was spinning with information. The sorting had soon finished and the feast began. He heard several gasps as the food appeared out of thin air but not long after everyone was chatting quietly whilst earing their dinners. On his right sat a tall, brown haired, blue eyed boy called Theodore Nott. He (Theo) started a light conversation with him about Quidditch, Hogwarts, teachers and such and the to became friends really fast.

After they were dismissed and sent to the common room, they had to chose their dormmates: for the firsties there was a room with four beds and one with two. It was quickly decided that Crabbe and Goyle would sleep together (nononoooo not that way, eww) and him, Blaise Zabini, Theo and Draco would be in the other. When they were sent into their rooms he started unpacking and completed their evening rituals. It was when he started pulling down his rings when Blaise noticed it and let out a loud gasp.

"T-that's no-not possible!" he stuttered, pointing at him.

"What?" Azrael stared confusedly. When Draco had a better look at his rings, his eyes widened and ran towards his trunk. _Beetle the Bard_, it said. He didn't say anything just started to read.

_There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across.. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure._

_And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him._

_So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother._

_Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

_And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility._

_Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination._

_The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible._

_That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The theif took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat._

_And so Death took the first brother for his own._

_Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him._

_Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her._

_And so Death took the second brother for his own._

_But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. With this, the youngest earned the respect of Death, thus he showed him a glimpse of the future. He snapped his fingers and a boy, looking about five or six years old, rose from the ground. He wasn't real, just a holograph but Ignotus saw the eight rings on his finger. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Black, Potter, Peverell and Dumbledore family rings. He was stunned. How come that a simple boy was the heir of all these houses? And the founders' line had ended ages ago! He asked Death what was going on, but all he said was three words._

"_He's my son," and with that he disappeared. He spread the news to his friends but no one believed him. He had died alone, only his son stood by his side._

"That idiot," commented Az, stunned that his daddy would do suck a thing. He had known that Death had spread rumours about him but this! He wouldn't have guessed it…

**hahahaaaaa cliffie− what will the boys' reaction will be?**

**Also NO ONE COMMENTED ON WHICH OF AZRAEL'S POWERS WOULD DUMBLES LOCK! **

But again, thanks for the reviews!

I live in Hungary. In fact, I'm a really proud Hungarian. So with Christmas coming, I thought that I'd share a few facts about my home's history, okay? I promise, nothing too boring.

The Hungarian history starts around 895 (called _Honfoglalás_), when 7 tribes conquered the Carpatian-basin in Mid-Europe. They were pagan people from the Northern part of the Ural mountain range. They were kind of Samanists, they had their Samans who were distinguished with birth-marks. For example if you were born with six fingers on one hand instead of five, it was 100% sure that you were a Saman. It was kind of like in the Bleach anime: there was the world of physical, living beings, the world of the good souls and the world of evil souls. They celebrated holidays like Tree day, Eostre was the god of Fertility. They were terra-centered, they adored everything that came with nature. Of course, good days do not last long, in 1000, King István I. (Stephen) was crowned (his original, Hungarian name was Vajk, but the Western countries kind of forced Hungary to become Christian so they renamed him István) who, on the force of France and England, changed the religion, yes, literally. It's like "Ok, from now on you're a Buddhist and if you don't pray every day, you'll be beheaded." Cute, isn't it?

I know for fact that most of you didn't even read it, so I won't bore you anymore…

Review?

Love,

Nico


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